A Little Competition
by CeruleanStarGlow
Summary: An election, a school musical, a few peopel in love, a new girl to shake things up, and Rachel Berry isn't the only member of New Directions that's feeling a little jealous.  Part one in the All's Fair in Love and Highschool Trilogy.
1. Chapter 1

Senior year. That means that Rachel only has to suffer one more year in this god-awful place before she can pack her bags and leave for the big apple. So of course senior year needs to start out bad. The universe is going to torture her for the entire year, isn't it. How hard could it be for the school to schedule her in the correct elective? Very, apparently, because Rachel's schedule is currently telling her that she belongs in "Advanced Painting- Ms. Dobbin" Rachel is horrible at painting. She avoids the set construction portions of theatre at all costs, because helping will inevitably result in too many splinters, paint all over her favorite blouse, and a shoddy job painting a backdrop that someone will have to re-do later anyway. It's probably because painting is something that Rachel is horrible at that she hates it so much. Because, why ever do something that you'll surely fail at, if you'll just end up ridiculed. Rachel is a star. She hates failure. She hates painting.

But, she's been signed up for painting anyway. She has to set this straight.

Rachel weaves through the students milling around the dirty, paint stained room, and over to a stool where a young Woman with blonde hair sits holding a clipboard.

"Are you Ms. Dobbin?" Rachel asks.

The woman looks up, smiling kindly at Rachel. "Yes, I am. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Actually there is. Painting really isn't something I'm good at, and I think it would be better for this class as a whole if I were moved into another elective. One that better suits my talents."

"You don't need to worry about not being a good painter. That's what the class is for. You're supposed to learn. The class is listed as advanced, but that just means most of the students took art appreciation already. You don't need to worry about other people being better than you. I'm sure you'll end up being a lovely painter."

"But, Ms. Dobbin. I really don't think you understand. I'm never going to be any good at painting. I don't want to waste your supplies when I could just be in a different class."

"You've got to have more self-confidence. Just try it out. I grade based on effort mostly. You'll probably get an A. It'll boost your GPA."

"But-"

"I've got to take attendance now. Why don't you take a seat. There's a free seat next to that girl over there" Ms. Dobbin pointed, and sure enough, an empty, paint stained, horrendously dirty looking stool is free, next to a girl that Rachel has never seen before in her life. Rachel strutts silently over to the seat, and gingerly sits down, smoothing her plaid skirt. She looks over to the girl next to her, who is drawing a very anatomically accurate picture of a guy, without any clothes on. Rachel huffs, and turns her head away from the girl. Who would draw that in school? Rachel peeks over at the drawing once more.

The guy is actually really hot.

Rachel tries to ignore the girl and her drawing while she pays attention to Ms. Dobbins giving a brief overview of what is expected of the students, and what their first project will be. But Rachel can't help but steal another glance, and see that the guy now has a face. A familiar one too. Rachel looks across the row of tables to a guy sitting slightly behind them. He is on the football team, and his name is James. Rachel had been slushied by him at least ten times since she started high school.

That thought makes it easy to ignore the muscle structure that the girl is now going over with thicker pen lines, and Rachel gets off her seat to go grab a piece of paper from the pile that Ms. Dobbins has indicated. She grabs another, for the girl, two paintbrushes, and two palettes. Ms Dobbins goes around the classroom, and squirts two colors, and black and white paint, onto each person's palette. She uncovers a still life at the front of the room. And she tells them to paint, but not to share colors.

Rachel raises her hand. "But Ms. Dobbins. Purple and yellow look awful together. And there are so many other colors in that still life. How am I supposed to make green for those apples? It's going to look all wrong!"The girl next to her snorts, and glanced at Rachel, eyes running up and down her body, assessing her outfit. Rachel suddenly feels self conscious in her pink tights and blue button down blouse. "What?" She askes defensively.

"Just… you don't' need everything to look exactly like it does in real life. The apples will still be apples even if they're the wrong color." Rachel raised an eyebrow and looked over at the sketch of the still life the other girl was doing.

"And the apples WILL look like apples if they're square? I think you're hardly the one to be telling ME how to paint." Rachel looks condescendingly at the drawing, and then turns to do the best she can with her own, trying and failing to reproduce every curve onto the sheet of stiff white paper. While Rachel is still sketching her first apple, the girl starts to paint, and the way she slopps on blue and orange paint without abandon, messily, is crude, and Rachel smiles to herself. At least she is better than the person sitting next to her. That she can deal with. A grin is plastered on her face as she continues her perfect drawing of the apples.

Five minutes before the bell rings, however, Ms. Dobbins is standing over the pair of girls, watching them work. "That's really lovely. I like the detail you're using on the texture of the basket."

"Thank you so-" Rachel looks up at Ms. Dobbs, and then stops speaking when she sees the woman's eyes trained, not on her own picture, but her neighbor's. Rachel looks down at the Painting. It looks nothing like the apples. They are square, and are mostly shades of brown that the girl has created by mixing different amounts of her blue and orange together. "Hers?" Rachel asks incredulously.

"Why of course. She's spent a lot of time coming up with different colors she could make simply with the two she was given, and the texture on the basket is beautiful." Rachel suddenly looks down at her picture, which hasexactly four colors in it: Purple, yellow, black, and white. All carefully spaced, and not mixing in any way. "This is very precise, and I see that you've spent a lot of time concentrating on it. That's good. Why don't you try working with some midtones next time though? Contrast is nice, but learning how to mix colors effectively is also a good skill to have." Rachel is about to say something else, but the bell interrupts her, and instead she grabs her bag and leaves the classroom without a word.

**-X-**

This class is going to be a piece of cake.

It's a level 5 advanced class, and there is still no way in the world Santana can fail. She knew she made the right choice when she signed up for Spanish instead of French as a foreign language in sixth grade.

Santana files her nails nonchalantly as she listens to her classmates fail to come up with an answer to the question Mr. Shue has written on the chalkboard.

"Que hiciste durante el verano?"

Mr. Shue goes around the room asking for answers. One girl thinks the question is asking if she is a vegan, and proceeds to talk about how much she loves steak. Another answers that he went to "Germania" over the summer with his parents. Santana laughs, and doesn't tell him that the word for Germany is Alemania, and that germania means something completely different. Mr. Shue looks pointedly at her and then corrects the student before moving on. Santana begins to filter the voices out and focus on other thoughts. The sound of Brittany's laugh rings in her ears and she smiles as she examines the nails on her right hand and moves onto her left.

Suddenly there is a voice bringing Santana back to the class. The voice isn't unlike Brittany's but it's fuller, not quite as sweet, but more audacious. It's a white girl's voice, but without the annoying American accent. Her accent is hard to decipher, very faintly Spanish. Every once and a while she slips in a "SH" that shouldn't be there, but not too often. And then of course on a few words she sounds very Chihuahuan. And those are two different parts of the world. And the words fall out of the white girl's mouth like she's been speaking Spanish her whole life- not too formal like they teach you in school, but still kind of polite- or at least as polite as you can be when you're telling your new teacher about how your life sucks because you had to move from your hometown near New York to live with your conservative Aunt and Uncle in Ohio. The girl stops talking and then glances over at Santana who has made a small noise of surprise, and then goes back to doodling in a notebook.

So there's a new girl in town. And from the look that girl has on her face, Santana knows she's got guts.

She smirks.

A few minutes later Mr. Shue arranges them in groups to work on making a poster for the vacation spot they visited that summer, and Santana finds herself paired up with the white girl, who holds out a hand. "I'm Katie." Santana takes the hand and says her name, before turning back in her seat, and resuming the job on her nails. "So… I hope you went somewhere interesting we can draw because the most interesting place I visited over the summer was a hospital." Santana nods. "We visited my Mama's family in Puerto Rico." Katie immediately starts outlining the island, and Santana watches, surprised that, as far as she can tell, the map is pretty accurate.

"How about we say you went windsurfing" Katie says as she begins to sketch the outline of a person windsurfing in the ocean next to the island.

"How do you say that is Spanish?" Santana asks, distracted.

"Hacer windsurf." The two girls look at each other. And then laugh.

"That's so lame. It sounds like something Puck would come up with." Santana says, and she turns to look at the poster.

"Who's that?" Katie asks.

And Santana looks at her for a minute, before saying, in all seriousness."Just some asshole I fucked a few times."

"Been there. He's hot?"

"Super. You'll probably meet him. He'll like you. He has a think for… un-skinny girls" Santana looks pointedly at Katie's body for a minute. Katie raises and eyebrow.

"Sounds like an interesting story…"

"He just stood me up for some bitchface whale Zizes last year." Santana starts helping Katie color in the poster with the broken old crayons Mr. Shue has provided them with.

"Still together?"

"No, she left him and the glee club because she thought it was ruining her reputation."

"That's a load of crap" Katie answers, and then looks confused. "What's glee club?"

"It's the showchoir club… actually this year they started having it as an elective class. It's ninth period."

Katie glances at her schedule. "They signed me up for that. My old school was super academic oriented, so I've gotten all the academic credits I actually need to graduate from McKinley. They just gave me a shit ton of electives" Santana asks to see the schedule, and Katie shows her.

"We have lunch and choir together, but nothing else. I think Brittany's in your fourth period Home-ec though." Santana tells her.

"Brittany?"

"She's my best friend. We met on the cheerios freshman year. She's like the sweetest girl you will ever meet. She rocks." Katie watches Santana gush on for a few minutes about her friend. "We've dated the same guys even. Speaking of, are the guys hotter here or in New York?"

"Well, the guys are pretty much the same. But the girls here are way hotter." Katie says this very nonchalantly, but Santana eyes her for a moment, confused.

"You're not… gay.. are you?"

Katie smirks at her. "You interested?"

Santana gets defensive. "What? Fuck no. You think I'd be attracted to a chubby dyke like you? What did you eat for breakfast? A cow?"

"Actually I don't eat meat"

"Like that's any less lesbo."

"I never said I wasn't gay. I do like girls. I just like guys too. I wasn't hitting on you. It was a joke." Katie looks at Santana like she's a toddler throwing a tantrum. Like a _Why am I even paying attention to this little brat_ kind of look. But then again she also looks defensive. So Santana breaks the momentary silence.

"You're alright bitchface."


	2. Chapter 2

Blaine is surprised when he looks at his schedule and sees that his third period class is health. Dalton didn't have health class, unless freshman Biology counts, and Blaine doesn't think it does, because they spent a lot more time dissecting frogs than they did talking about human organ systems. By the time he walks into the classroom, the bell is ringing, and the only seat left is in the back row, between a bulky hockey player, and a blond girl that is sitting sideways in her chair staring at the posters around the cramped classroom. Blaine smiles at her when he sets his books down on the empty desk, and she smiles back, but says nothing. The teacher walks in only about five second later.

"Okay everyone. Welcome to health and wellness class." The woman's voice is unbelievably chipper. "My name is Ms. Smith, and I'll be your teacher this year. This class is a full year course, and you need to pass it in order to graduate, so I suggest that all of you pay attention. Now, I thought that we could start off classes with a bang this year, so we'll be watching a movie today, and then be having a discussion." Nobody reacts to her words, because really, how good could any health class movie be?

And of course it's not good. It's the kind of movie that makes Blaine very, very glad that Dalton had no sex ed classes. The running slideshow of STD infected genitals is narrated by a bland voice outlining the symptoms of each STD. Only about a minute into the movie, Blaine decides he's had enough, and diverts his eyes to the girl next to him. She is drawing on her right arm with a blue sharpie marker, with her face screwed up in concentration. Blaine watches her face as she draws, because she makes the most amusing faces. Every once and a while she sticks out her tongue. Blaine decides that if he was straight he would be really turned on. About twenty minutes into the movie, the girl looks up at Blaine and raises a dirty blonde eyebrow, and instead of looking away, embarrassed, like Blaine would if he were straight, he mirrors the expression on his own face. The girl sticks her tongue out, and Blaine does as well, and then goes cross-eyed. Blaine attempts to mimic the expression but just ends up giving himself a headache.

Suddenly the lights in the classroom flash on and everyone looks up to the front. Some people jolt upwards from what seems to have been their midmorning nap.

"Since you were paying so much attention to the movie, why don't you tell us all whether gonorrhea is caused by a virus or a bacteria." The teacher seems to be staring right towards him.

Blaine watches as the girl turns to the teacher to look her in the eye, pointing questioningly at herself. Ms. Smith nods. Blaine feels sorry for her, because he's pretty sure that no one could have picked up any useful information from that video, and she wasn't paying any attention at all. But she doesn't look worried in the slightest.

"Bacteria" She answers calmly.

"And what is the name of that bacteria?"

"Neisseria Gonorrheae."

"And what are the symptoms of Gonorrhea"

"In what gender?"

"Both"

"Women are asymptomatic about 50% of the time, but when they do have symptoms, they include vaginal discharge, lower abdominal pain, and pain during intercourse. Men aren't asymptomatic as much. They usually have burning urination and discharge. You can also get oral gonorrhea. The symptoms are similar to common viral infections. Sore throat, fever."

Blaine watches the entire exchange with confusion. The teacher looks surprised at first, as the blonde girl speaks, and then the expression on her face morphs into annoyance.

"How do you prevent the spread of Gonorrhea"

"By practicing safe sex, and always using condoms, and having both partners screened for STD's before intercourse."

Ms. Smith's face curves into a smirk. "Absolutely not. The only way to effectively prevent the Spread of Gonorrhea is abstinence. Condoms fail almost forty percent of the time. They are hardly effective!"

"That's a made up statistic. Condoms only break about 3% of the time. Abstinence is the only way to be sure that you don't get gonorrhea, but that doesn't mean that there are no other ways of preventing contracting an STD."

Blaine watches as the woman's eyes start to pop out of her head. "How dare you assume to teach ME? You are the student, and It is my job to impart my knowledge onto you. You have no business assuming that you know more than I do."

The blonde girl looks angry, but her voice is even as she says, "You have no business lying to students, especially about issues pertaining to their own health."

"Go to the principal's office immediately."

"I actually don't know where the principal's office is. I'm new."

The teacher looks like she is going to explode. She points at Blaine. "Take her to the principal's office"

"But-"

"Just do it!"

The two grab their books and stuff them hurriedly into bags before rushing out of the classroom. They rush down a hallway and turn a corner, before the blond girl leans up against a locker and starts to laugh. "That woman is crazy!" She looks up at Blaine. "So… where is the principal's office?"

Blaine shrugs. "I'm new too. I don't know where anything is."

"Well, I guess it doesn't matter. She doesn't even know my name… We probably won't get in trouble if we don't show up." The Blonde girl grins over at Blaine. "I'm Katie. Katie Chew. What's your name?"

"Blaine Anderson." Blaine grins back. "What kind of last name is Chew?"

"The awesome kind."

Blaine wants to tell himself that he should go back to class, but Katie is right about the fact that the teacher is crazy, and who is he to pass up a good excuse to cut without getting in trouble (or at least, probably not. Neither of them is quite sure about the rules around here.)

"So, what school did you transfer from?" Blaine asks, curious about his fellow newcomer.

"Not one you've heard of. I moved here from New York over the summer."

Blaine's eyes can't help but widen in surprise. "You're from New York City?" He asks, jealousy obvious in his voice.

"No" Katie supplies. "I lived in a suburb outside of the city… Like twenty minutes away"

"But you've been there?"

"Sure, loads of times. My mom used to take me in to see shows two or three times a year. And I went to see the museums with my dad… or go shopping"

Blaine looks starstruck. "That's awesome."

"Trust me… it gets old sometimes."

Blaine shakes his head because _that can't possibly be true. _Katie just laughs at him, and they continue to wander the halls of the school, lost, until the bell rings, and the two of them part ways to try and find their next classes. Blaine forgets to ask what she was drawing on her arm during the movie.

**-X-**

Author's Note: So If you've finished reading this chapter I guess you actually think it's good enough to keep reading? Or maybe you just have no life and nothing to do… But either way, drop a review and tell me what you think. 'The first few chapters are going to be setting up Katie's relationships with different glee kids, and her character traits. I'll get into the scandalous drama soon tho.

This is an alternate plot for season three and I'm going to be ignoring the fact that Santana was kicked out fo glee, because it doesn't work with my storyline. Blaine is still here though, because I like him, and he and Katie are newbies together.


	3. Chapter 3

Tina Cohen-Chang didn't expect much from her fourth period Home-ec class. Junior year is going to be a hard year for her, with five APs, and one honors class (Because McKinley didn't offer AP language courses. It had taken Tina hours to explain that to her parents.) All Tina wants out of Home-ec is a period when she can relax and not need to worry about her grades. With the amount of money the school district spends on arts programs, she is surprised the school even offers Home-ec. So, she isn't expecting much out of the program.

She also isn't expecting to walk into the classroom to find a sleeping teacher. The woman (Tina's schedule said the teacher was Ms. Manderly) looks to be about eighty or ninety years old. She has frizzy white hair, and a wide open mouth. She is snoring. On the blackboard behind her are instructions:

Split into groups of three or four.

Take a recipe from up front.

Ingredients are in the kitchens.

Make brownies according to the recipe.

Tine stares for a moment at the directions and the sleeping woman, before shrugging, and walking up to the front of the room to grab a recipe. Brittany is standing in one of the room's mini kitchens, holding up an eggbeater and staring at it, so Tina walks over towards her.

"Hey Brittany."

"Tina! How was your summer?"

"Good. Mike and I-"

"Tina do you see this? It looks like a robot bunny!"

"Umm… yeah. I guess it does. Do you want to make brownies together?"

"I love Brownies!" Brittany grins at Tina, who hands her the recipe. Brittany looks at it for a moment. "Recipes confuse me…"

Tina takes the recipe back. "How about I just give you stuff that you can mix with the robot bunny?"

Brittany grins. "Cool!"

Tina isn't really sure why she's even bothering to make brownies. Only one other group of kids has decided to cook that day. One of the guys is a hockey player and the Tina thinks that the two others hang out with the Skanks under the bleachers. Tina measures flour and cocoa powder and butter as she watches one of the guys pull a plastic bag out of his pocket, and show it to the other two. It's full of something that Tina can't see, but she (correctly) assumes is pot. She turns away to measure out ¾ cup of water, and then hands the bowl over to Brittany to mix, who is chatting about unicorns.

Out of the corner of her eye, Tina sees a girl watching the three guys in the other kitchen. She's got short blond hair and glasses, and is wearing a dark purple dress and cowboy boots, and she doesn't look familiar. Tina wonders if she's from the south like Sam was. The girl walks over to the guys, and her voice is a lot clearer that the three guys', so Tina can hear some of what she's saying.

"You're not seriously going to just pour the weed into the brownie batter and bake it. Are you?"

The two guys look at her like she's nuts. "What would you know? That's how you make pot brownies!"

The girl laughs. "Not if you want to get high it's not. And they'll taste bad anyway. If you want to make pot brownies, you have to make…" The girl starts whispering, and Tina can't hear what she's saying, but just watches as she boils a pot of water and adds butter and the contents of the plastic baggie to it. Tina turns away. A new skank is in town. She wonders if Quinn knows this girl yet, because she's been hanging out with the skanks all summer. Probably.

An hour later, when the period ends, and Brittany and Tina are cutting their brownies and putting them in a plastic bag to take home with them, Tina looks over to the other group again. The girl is sitting down again, at one of the tables near the front of the room, reading a heavy book. One of the guys comes up to offer her a square of brownie, but she shakes her head.

"I don't do drugs"

Tina giggles from where she is, and the girl looks over to her. "What's so funny?"

"The expert on making pot brownies doesn't do drugs? I totally believe that."

The girl shrugged. "I don't. I just know how to make the brownies, and I couldn't just sit and watch them doing it the wrong way. Gotta help others and teach them to see the light and all that."

Tina raises an eyebrow, and then shrugs. Maybe the girl isn't so bad after all. Tina glances at the cover of the book the girl is holding. It's the complete works of William Shakespeare. Yeah, maybe not such a skank after all. The skanks aren't big on reading. Tina smiles at the girl. "Do you have lunch next? You can have a drug free brownie and sit with me."

The girl looks her up and down for a minute, and then nods. "Yeah. Sounds good. I'm Katie."

Tina holds out a brownie. "I'm Tina" The two of them grab their backpacks and munch on the brownies as they walk to the cafeteria.

"Are you new here?" Tina asks.

Katie nods. "Yup. I just moved in with my Aunt and Uncle and cousin."

"Who's your cousin? Does she go to McKinley?" Tina asks, interested.

"No. She's at The Math and Science Magnet school." Tina raises an eyebrow.

"You know McKinley's academic team beat them last year."

Katie laughs at the expression on Tina's face. "A little bit of a rivalry going on?"

"Only on academic team. We wipe the floor with them in every sport, including football, which is saying something, because until last year we'd won a grand total of four games."

"My old school had a horrible football team too. I think they're still on a five year losing streak…" The two girls finish their brownies, and get in the lunch line. Katie is examining the food curiously. "There's real food here? Like.. is it good?"

Tina nods "Yeah, usually it's pretty good. I'd stay away from the beef stroganoff… but.. otherwise it's actually not bad. Spaghetti is today. That's always good."

"I'm a vegetarian so I wasn't going to eat stroganoff anyway." Katie replies, and Tina nods. "My old school's lunches were practically inedible…"

The two girls grab lunch and then sit down at a table and begin to scarf down food. About five minutes later Mike shows up, and gives Tina a peck on the cheek. She giggles and turns her head to capture his lips again, and the two of them make out for a good minute, before Katie clears her throat. "Not that you're not a cute couple, but I think that entire table is staring at you."

Tina turns around and, sure enough, an entire table of nerds is staring blankly at the couple. Jacob Ben Israel looks like he's starting to drool. Mike sits down in the empty seat next to Tina.

"This is Mike, my boyfriend." Mike kisses Tina again, and then turns to grin at Katie.

"Hi! And you are…?"

Katie smiles back, "My names Katie. Katie Chew."

Make looks confused for a minute. "You're not Asian are you? You don't look Asian…"

"It's spelled C-H-E-W, not C-H-U. And no, I'm not Asian."

"Weird last name."

"I like it," Katie smiles and shrugs, and the three go back to eating their lunch.

**-X-**

It's Kurt Hummel's first day of senior year, so it's absolutely essential that he looks perfect. He spent hours yesterday, putting together his outfit, and woke up a half hour early for his moisturizing and hair routine. He has to look his best.

Kurt is absolutely horrified, however, when he walks into his sixth period Ceramics class and is told that today- Yes, today, the first day of school- everyone will be starting work on a potter's wheel. His clothes are going to be ruined. When he raises his hand to tell the teacher that he can't possibly work with clay today because his outfit will get ruined, he just tells him that he won't get messy if he's careful. Kurt doesn't believe the man, partially because Kurt has worked on a potter's wheel before, and knows how messy semi solid mud is, and also because the teacher in question has half dried clay up to his elbows, and grey smudged across his face and neck, and all over the front of his T-shirt.

Kurt crosses his arms over his chest, and decides to simply refuse to participate, until someone taps on his shoulder. There is a hand holding out an oversized button down shirt that is already home to more paint stains then Kurt can count. He looks up to the face of the person holding out the shirt, and it's an unfamiliar one. The girl is probably about 5'6", and has dirty blonde hair that's been cut into a bob (which Kurt has to admit is a fabulous cut on her). She is wearing an indigo sundress that falls to her mid-thigh, and compliments her body beautifully. And she's also wearing a pair of beat up, dark brown cowboy boots that Kurt knows could easily look cheesy, but this girl has pulled them off by wearing them over a pair of fuzzy grey knee socks, which are visible about an inch and a half over the top of the boots. This girl looks fabulous. If fact, she might even be dressed more fabulously than Kurt is, and it doesn't even look like she's got a designer thread on her body. Kurt smiles. "Thanks… but what are you going to wear over your dress?"

The girl shrugs. "I don't care. Clay comes out of clothes, and I don't mind looking a little messy after art class. It's supposed to be messy." Upon closer examination, Kurt does see a smudged sharpie drawing on the girl's arm, and some blue and brown paint stuck onto her fingertips in places.

"You have any other art classes?" Kurt asks.

"Painting, first period." She replies.

"Oh. My friend, Rachel is in that class. Did you meet her?" Kurt asks.

"What does she look like?"

Kurt begins to describe her and as he does, the girl's face begins to change, at first maybe annoyed, but then just amused. "Yes, I know her. She was sitting next to me. She seemed to think that painting wasn't worth her time. She didn't make a particularly wonderful first impression, but if she's not so bad… I'll take your word for it." She laughs.

"She can be a bit… abrasive… sometimes." Kurt admits. "She's also a fabulous singer though."

"She's in choir?" the girl asks.

"We call it Glee… but yeah."

"I'm signed up for that ninth period."

Kurt's smile widens. "Me too." The teacher begins to hand out blocks of clay for everyone to work with, and Kurt slips on the smock that the girl has lent him. "What's your name?"

"Katie," she replies, and then begins wedging her clay on the heavy metal table in front of them. The two of them chatter for the next forty five minutes as they each turn their lumps of clay into little ceramic vases. Or at least… Katie's looks like a vas. Kurt's still pretty much looks like a lump of clay when he walks out of the class, wondering if he'll ever get the moisture back in his hands again. Even if this class doesn't ruin his clothes, it's going to kill his skin.

**-X-**

Puck didn't actually sign up for autoshop. In fact… he never did turn in his schedule request form at the end of the previous year. Aside from being in remedial math (Which he'll continue to not attend), Puck's classes aren't very academic. The school has probably decided to forgo graduation requirements just to give him classes they think he might actually learn something from.

Because Puck is not getting into college. Even he knows that. So he has autoshop, and woodshop, and Spanish, and personal finance, and a few other classes that Puck has either forgotten, or didn't bother to look at in the first place.

Puck doesn't think he'll mind autoshop. He knows a bit about cars, and all the guys he sees in the class with him are cool dudes, and Puck has heard that the teacher doesn't care much what people do in his class, as long as they learn Something.

Puck turns his head to look at someone coming through the door, and can't help the surprised look on his face when he sees that it's a girl. Puck knows she's new the minute he sees her, because he makes a point of knowing every girls face so that he can keep a running tab in his head of who he's fucked. "You must be lost new girl. Need me to show you to your class?" Puck asks her, flexing his biceps, as she walks in. No girls ever sign up for shop classes. Ever. They just don't.

The girl holds up a piece of paper that's probably her schedule. "I'm supposed to be here dickface." She heads to the opposite corner of the room as if she's going to find a seat there, but the only ones available are near Puck, so she drops her bag and sits down next to him, arms crossed over her chest. He smirks, and she sighs and pulls out a book. The teacher walks in a few minutes later, and the girl looks up.

"Your schedules probably say Mr. Davis on them, but you guys can call me Mike." The teacher goes through the attendance, and a few names in he hits "Chew, Katie". He looks up and searches for the source of the "here."

"You sign up for this class?" he asks.

"No. I didn't sign up for anything. I'm a transfer. I just moved a few weeks ago."

"Do you want to switch out?"

"No"

"You sure? We get pretty messy in this class. I don't want to hear you complaining about getting grease on your Calvin Klein jeans or anything…"

"I'm the last person who'll complain about getting dirty. And I don't own a pair of designer jeans anyway." She looks at him as if to challenge him to say anything else.

He doesn't. He just continues down the list. When he's done he goes over an endless list of safety rules that Puck doesn't really bother to remember. Mike goes around asking them to repeat the rules, but he never ends up calling on Puck.

Puck watches the girl the entire time, the way the bites her lip a lot, and she's humming a tune he recognizes from somewhere, and her eyes keep wandering around the room, and the way he can see a bit of cleavage because her dress is cut just low enough. He probably stares at her boobs for about ten minutes trying to figure out if they're real or not. Probably not. No one has real boobs anymore. Santana got hers done last year, and even though they look nice, Puck wishes that she still had the old ones. Fake boobs just don't feel right…

Halfway through that thought the bell rings, and Puck is pulled out of his stupor by the teacher's voice. "We're all going to be starting oil changes tomorrow, so I hope you were paying attention to my demonstration."

Puck probably wouldn't worry even if he didn't already know how to change the oil in a car.

Because Puck doesn't care about school.

Really.


	4. Chapter 4

When Katie walks into the room, she knows it's the right one immediately, because there's Kurt, waving at her, and moving his bag off of a seat to make room for her. And of course that girl from Spanish… Santana, laughing at some joke with another skinny blonde girl in a cheerleading uniform. The Dickface, who Katie has to admit is actually kind of cute, is sitting behind the two girls, and flashes what he must have intended to be a sexy grin her way when she walks in. It doesn't look very sexy. It looks kind of stupid.

Katie walks up toward Kurt and takes the seat next to him. "Katie, there you are. I want to introduce you to-"

"Blaine" Katie says, grinning.

"You two met?" Kurt asks, suddenly interested in why the two people sitting next to him are grinning like it's Christmas day.

"Yeah" says Blaine, trying to suppress a laugh, "She's in my health class. Already got in trouble on the first day."

Kurt turns towards the girl with a bemused expression. "How did you manage that?"

"Psycho teacher. Apparently she knows everything, and I know nothing. It must be true, after all, the state doesn't pay _stupid people _to teach sex ed. Never."

"Or health in general. It's not like you can hope for much more than that in public school though…" Blaine says this conversationally.

"My school had good health classes. Well… not that good, but they didn't teach us bullshit."

"They didn't teach us bullshit when I was in that class…?" Kurt looks confused. "We learned how to put condoms on cucumbers, and like…"

"Kurt, you had Ms. Brady for health, not Mrs. Smith. And Ms. Holliday is the one who taught us how to put condoms on cucumbers." Mercedes has interrupted the conversation. "I thought I was going to get HIV from them for ages… I didn't eat salad for like two months after that…"

Santana looks over at the group. "Did you say Ms. Smith? I had that bitch for health last year, and she hated me. She's going to assume that you're a slut for the entire year. She hates girls that are pretty, because they like… made high school miserable for her. So now she's made it her mission to make all of our lives miserable."

Katie half listens to the conversation that Kurt and Santana begin about the horrible teachers at the school, but turns to look around the room instead. As she does, a familiar figure strides into the room, plaid skirt, tights, and penny loafers rushing to get through the door just as the bell rings. The two girls lock eyes for a minute, before the dark haired girl turns and sits on the red plastic chair seated front and center. As she sits, Mr. Shuester, who Katie has not noticed until now, stand up from a stool by the front corner of the room and begins to speak. 

"Hey, everyone. I hope you guys had a great summer, and welcome to a new school year. I know for most of you it's your senior year, so we'll be saying goodbye sooner than you think, but before we do that, we have a few new faces to welcome to the new directions." Mr. Shue smiles, and looks up at Katie and Blaine, sitting on either side of Kurt Hummel.

"I think all of you know Blaine. He just transferred from Dalton, and I know he'll be a great addition to the group." Blaine grins and waves and the Blonde cheerleader with Santana blows him a kiss.

"We also have a new member who moved to Lima from…" Mr. Shuester pauses, and Katie's sure it's because he doesn't know where she's from, just that it's not Ohio.

"She's from New York." Blaine brags as if he has anything to do with where Katie's from. Whisper's break out around the room, and the Brunette girl, Rachel flips her head around to look at Katie. "Really?"

"I didn't actually live IN the city… I lived in a suburb." Katie corrects.

"She could drive in by herself!" Blaine exclaims.

"Actually no… I couldn't. You have to be eighteen to drive in New York City. I could take the train in though…"

The rest of the kids in glee are varying degrees of starstruck.

"Well… I bet you haven't sung on a REAL Broadway stage. I got to sign on a stage at the Gershwin theatre! You know where-" Rachel is cut off.

"Yeah, Wicked is at the Gershwin theatre. I did one of those theatre programs a few years ago for girl scouts, where the choreographers for the show teach you a part of a number and they have a few of the actors come in and teach you songs and then everyone plays a trivia game about the show… and then gets tickets to the evening show. It doesn't really count as having sung on a Broadway stage I guess, but it was a ton of fun. I've always liked RENT better though… I was so bummed when it closed. I remember staying up all night writing angsty RENT fanfiction…"

"You're a girl scout? Seriously?"

And

"I Love RENT So Much!"

And

"What's fanfiction?"

And a number of other comments chorused through the room after Katie had finished speaking, but Mr. Shuester interrupted. "Okay, Okay, so Katie's moved here from New York… State." Mr. Shue turns to her. "I do hope you sing, because I know you told me during Spanish how they just threw you in all sorts of random electives…?"

Katie nods. "I haven't for a while. I had to pick between chorus and orchestra after middle school… so I've been playing the violin, rather than singing for three years… and I also ended up delegating myself to stage crew instead of actually being in musicals… I like being the one who gets to yell at people and tell them what to do… rather than being stressed out of my mind."

Mr. Shue smiles, "Well, I'm sure you'll do fine. And if you want to join AV club, you can always work backstage for the musical this year."

Katie nods. "That'd be really cool!"

Mr. Shue claps his hands together. "Now. It's always a tradition that new members audition, even though everyone gets in. Blaine serenaded most of us today at lunch…"

Katie leans over to Kurt and whispers, "What? When?"

"Did you eat in the cafeteria, or outside?"

"Cafeteria, with Tina and Mike."

"Blaine sang 'It's not unusual' and it was fabulous." Katie looks nervous. "Oh, don't worry. We'll take you even if you suck, and I'm sure you don't."

"…So, Katie. Would you be willing to sing for us?" Mr. Shue asks.

"I don't know what I would sing…" Katie says awkwardly, staring around her, fingers picking at a loose thread in the hem of her dress. Kurt slaps her hand lightly, and whispers "don't ruin that dress it's gorgeous."

"You were humming something really cool in autoshop today…"

Katie looks up, and over to Puck. "You really paid attention to what I was humming? As far as I could tell you were too mesmerized by my chest to notice anything else going on in that classroom."

The two cheerleaders start to laugh, and Puck tenses up. "I can multitask. You were humming something from that movie Rachel made me watch one time. The one with the girls in jail… with that kick ass tango scene?"

"Chicago?" Rachel's voice rings out.

"I was humming, 'All that Jazz'" Katie admits. "But it's a little low for my range… easier to hum."

"Try it," says Mr. Shue. "We won't judge."

Katie get sup and begins to walk towards the front of the room. "You will. Because if I don't sing well, I'll try and start dancing instead… and I pretty much suck at dancing… You WILL judge." Katie looks down at the guy who's suddenly, and conveniently, seated at the shining black piano. "Does he need sheet music or anything?"

"Don't worry. He'll play the song. He knows it." Mr. Shue tells her.

Katie nods to the piano man, and Mr. Shue returns to his corner to watch. The first few notes play, and Katie stares at the floor, one hand on her hip, and one hanging down by her thigh. And then she tips her head up, and starts to sing. She looks straight in front of her, because that's the first plays her eyes hit and focus on, and she doesn't want to blow this because of nerves. The guy right in front of her fidgets uncomfortably while she starts to sing.

"Come on babe

Why don't we paint the town

and all that jazz

I'm gonna rouge my knees

and roll my stockings down

and all that jazz"

Her voice feels strange, and it's weird to sing in front of an actual audience, instead of a shower head, but she takes that weirdness, and she decides to fuck it and just do whatever. Making a fool of yourself isn't so bad. Katie finds herself walking towards the awkward boy, singing to him, leaning down, and almost whispering "all that jazz, into his ear, before snapping up and strutting away. Rachel looks like she's about to kill Katie, and she briefly wonders if the awkward boy is her boyfriend or secret crush or something. Whatever.

"Start the car I know a whoopee spot

Where the gin is cold 

but the piano's hot! 

It's justy a noisy hall 

Where there's a nightly brawl 

And all that jazz"

On the last word, everyone comes in, in perfect harmony like they do in the musical, and all Katie can think is, 'my god this school is weird' as she half dances, half struts over to Puck, and wishes she was wearing heels, because it would make this perfect.

"Slick your hair 

And wear your buckle shoes 

And all that Jazz 

I hear that Father Dip 

Is gonna blow the blues 

And all that Jazz 

Hold on, hon 

We're gonna bunny hug 

I bought some aspirin 

Down at United Drug 

I case you shake apart 

And want a brand new start 

To do that"

And then Rachel Berry comes in to sing the long high note that belongs to Roxie in the musical, and Katies face is contorted with annoyance, because "That brunette bitch just stole that note. I was going to ace that note!" so she belts out the next verse as the rest of the glee club joins in with the accompaniment, and she has to keep herself from dancing, because she really, really will look like an idiot if she tries. She doesn't think she can pull of sexy 20's murderess… It's just not her.

"Find a flask 

We're playing fast and loose 

And all that jazz 

Right up here 

Is where I store the juice 

And all that jazz 

Come on, babe 

We're gonna brush the sky 

I bet you luck Lindy 

Never flew so high 

'Cause in the stratosphere 

How could he lend an ear 

to all that jazz?"

And Katie really feels like she's on top of the world while she sings and this feels SO right, and why on earth has she been playing the fuckign violin for three fucking years when she could have been singing.

And then Rachel steals the line again.

"Oh, you're gonna see your sheba shimmy shake

And all that Jazz!"

Katie Steps up to the now standing Rachel, and hopes that maybe the fact that she's a full four inches taller will make this bitch shut up and listen. And she belts out,

"Oh, she's gonna shimmy till her garters break

And all that Jazz!"

And then they're both together, both harmonizing, both glaring daggers at one another.

"Show her where to park her girdle  
>Oh, her mother's blood'd curdle"<p>

And then the club is in singing again,

"If she hears her baby's queer"

Rachel holds up a hand- "For All"

Katie sings over the brunette "That"

And then the two grab each others' arms and belt out the word "jazz" together, Katie can feel nails biting in her skin but it just pushes her harder, to a crescendo, and then the room is silent. And then full of applause.

"I think you made it Bitchface" Santana shouts across the room, and Santana may have just called her a bitch, but she's smiling. Rachel is silent, and really does look like she belongs on married murderess row.


	5. Chapter 5

"You know you should really try out for the musical, don't just join stage crew. I'm sure you'd get a great part." Artie watches as the girl jumps and turns around, surprised, before smiling congenially.

"What makes you say that?" She asks.

"I am the student director, and I get a pretty big say in who gets to be who. I think you'd be perfect."

"What's the show?" She looks genuinely curious, even though she's now turned away from Artie to pack up her bag and sling it over one shoulder.

"West Side Story."

Her face breaks into a… confused grin. "You can't be serious? That's what my old school is doing this year. I was so pissed that I was going to miss the first year that they actually did a good show."

Artie wheels towards her. "Try out. I think you'd make a great Maria."

"I've always thought I'd be more of an Anita. But you'd have to put me in dancing boot camp. I look stupid if I try to do anything remotely like dancing."

"You've got the rhythm. And don't get yourself down. You could be a great dancer. I haven't completely let go of my dream to be a dancer someday… and you can't possibly be less likely to get there than I am." It's a joke, and she laughs at it, and Artie notes gratefully that she hasn't once looked awkward about the fact that he's in a chair.

"Well, I'll definitely try out. When?"

"We're actually starting today after school, in the auditorium, if you've got something prepared?"

"You know… the rest of the world isn't like this school. We don't know the lyrics and harmonies to every single song automatically, or have band members constantly hanging around to back us up. But… yes… I can sing West Side Story in my sleep. I'll be there in ten." Katie pushes him gently backwards with her boot, and Artie smiles as she walks out of the choir room.

_She has a really nice ass, _he notes, before sighing and turning to watch as Brittany and Santana follow Katie out the door.

**-X-**

A few people are gathered backstage when Katie arrives in the Auditorium. It's taken her about a half hour, not ten minutes, to get there, because first she had to find her locker in that mess of a school, and then of course she had to find her way back to the auditorium, which is a lot harder than you might think. Kurt is grinning, and walking off the stage with a spring in his step when Katie get's there. She stops him, and doesn't need to ask him how it went, because she knows, but she asks anyway. She knows that he needs to gush.

"It was absolutely perfect… I think. I mean, I totally rocked the song, and the whole blocking with the scaffolding was a nice touch.. but maybe it was too much… oh my god… what if I was horrible!"

Katie mostly doesn't know what he's talking about, but puts a hand on his shoulder anyway, and tells him he was absolutely fantastic, and no one in their right mind wouldn't cast him in a show. She heard the last few notes, and he sounds like a stunning singer. She can't really attest to his dancing... but if there was scaffolding involved he's probably fine, because he's not hurt, and no one is laughing at him.

Rachel walks on next, and Kurt and Katie sit in silence in the dark of the right wing watching her.

"Maybe you shouldn't listen. You two are basically out for the same parts… you don't want to psych yourself up too much," Kurt whispers.

"I didn't know I was even auditioning until a half hour ago… and I would love working backstage as much as center stage... so… at least right now there's no pressure. I'll live."

So they watch.

And Katie didn't realize just how wonderful of a singer Rachel is until this moment. She tears her eyes away from Rachel's face to look at Kurt, who, though smiling, and with an impressed expression on his face, doesn't look as surprised as Katie thinks she must right now.

Kurt sees Katie's expression. "She really is fantastic… but… you know, it gets old."

Katie nods, "Yeah… I do get it. But right now she's just about the best singer I've ever heard, so… I'll bask in the drama queen psycho talent glow of Rachel Berry." There's sarcasm in her voice… but it's not as adamant or dry or funny as it would have been if she hadn't been truly stunned as she said it.

When Rachel hits the last note, she nods toward the audience, and then walks quietly off the stage, to the left wing, away from Kurt and Katie.

"Well, I guess you're last. I saw Quinn and Brittany both audition, and they're nothing on you, so just go out there and sing." Kurt pushes her towards the stage, and Katie stumbles, but then she's caught in a spotlight that's trained on the center, and she straightens her spine, and grits her teeth and looks forward. She can't see anything but white.

**-X-**

Rachel hears the other girl stumble as she walks across the stage, and decides, maybe… maybe she should stay and watch. She turns around and hides herself in the folds of thick black curtain. Katie is staring up into the spotlight as if it's not hurting her eyes at all.

"My mom took me to see West Side Story, on Broadway, for my birthday when I turned fourteen. That was the revival where they translated a lot of the lyrics into Spanish, and I don't know if you were considering doing that for the show… but, I think this song is even more powerful in Spanish… so that's how I'm going to sing it."

She pauses.

"It's called.. Un Hombre Así. A Boy Like That."

And Katie starts to sing. And sing. And sing. And she can really sing… but Rachel knew that. And she sounds like honey and cinnamon and latkes on Hanukah, but it's angry too, and it sounds the way it felt to watch her father almost burn the kitchen down, and the bitter taste of smoke, and it sounds like Finn and Quinn, and Quinn and Finn. Rachel shakes herself to stop from thinking that, because why would singing sound like food, or fire, or smoke… or jealousy. But the vowels are beautiful and hateful and painful even though Rachel speaks French, not Spanish, and can't understand a word, but then of course when Katie hit's the verse where Maria comes in, she goes back to the beginning and sings it again in English.

And she remembers why it's so beautiful and Hateful and painful.

Because "he'll murder your love, he murdered mine" and "a boy who kills cannot love" and no matter how much Rachel wants to hate Katie, she also needs to cry.

And she needs a glass of water. Because she's sad. Or thirsty. Or something like that.

**-X-**

Author's Note:

Hey guys… so I know this is a super short chapter… but I didn't think it fit with the next bit. I'm not going to have a set chapter length at this point, so some may be very short, and others very long. I will try to have short chapters posted more often though.

Look forward to some Brittana action next chapter. I'm going to skip over or just briefly mention some season three events that fit into my story… and probably nothing after the first few episodes will actually be included. Presidential elections are happening however, and we'll be seeing Santana and Brittany decorating campaign posters soon enough.


	6. Chapter 6

Brittany and Santana are two halves of one whole. They belong together. Brittany doesn't use the word love, because it's already implied, and it will make Santana uncomfortable. Brittany and Santana are a Black and white cookie. When everyone looks at them they see black and white, dark and light, happy and bitchy. When they kiss it's that strange, but not unwelcome mixture of waxy red lipstick, and root beer flavored lip smackers. The devil in a red dress and the angel in baby pink. Brittany knows they are wrong. They lie together on the deep burgundy sheets of Santana's bed, Brittany's eyes wander across the black walls, and plush dark carpet. It's so different from her own room, with floral wallpaper and honey colored wood floorboards. But Brittany is not the white or the black part of the cookie. Brittany is the frosting.

Brittany is all abs and strength and power, hidden behind not quite but almost sickeningly sweet smiles and jokes. Brittany is the hard, but breakable frosting on top, that little kids pick off first, in pieces. Because you have to break Brittany to take her away from Santana. There's no other way she'd leave her.

And for all her words and threats and sultry looks, Santana is the cookie. She is soft, like smooth warm skin, and flushed lips and sweet nothings whispered in your ear. She is scared, and not as sweet as the frosting, but not as strong either. Sometimes she crumbles. Sometimes it's the frosting that keeps the cookie from falling apart if you're not careful.

"Santana, you and I are like two halves of a black and white cookie" Brittany says, suddenly, as the two girls lie, sprawled across Brittany's light purple bedspread, gluing Newspaper cut out letters and purple glitter onto a hundred thousand million posters that display proudly "Girls Run the World! Vote for Brittany S. Pierce, McKinley's next Star."

Santana stops what she's doing and smiles, first, as if she's trying to suppress the feeling, and then she turns to Brittany, and props herself up on her elbows. "I love you Brit."

Brittany discards her bottle of Elmer's glue on her bedside table. "Love you too."

And then there is smooth skin, warm hands against toned arms. And candy kisses are red, and black is the same as white and the same as black and so, so, beautiful as they crumble and collide.

**-X-**

When Santana hands Brittany the cookie the next day, the blonde insists on sharing. When Brittany breaks it in half Santana gently informs her that she broke it the wrong way, but Brittany shakes her head vehemently as the two walk down the hallway of McKinley, each munching on a piece of the pastry that is half and half. Black and white. Because it makes a difference.


	7. Chapter 7

**William McKinley School Musical 2011: West Side Story**

**Cast:**

Tony: Blaine Anderson

Maria: Rachel Berry

Riff: Mike Chang

Anita: Katie Chew

Bernardo: Noah Puckerman

Rosalia: Mercedes Jones

Baby John (Somewhere Soloist): Kurt Hummel

Jet Girls: Quinn Fabray, Brittany S. Pierce, Rebecca Dean, Jenn Palowski, Erin Velasquez

Shark Girls: Santana Lopez, Tina Cohen Chang, Emma Tanner, Laura Hart

Rachel continues to read down the list. The Jet and Shark Boys have been cast entirely from the football team, and a few Cheerios have opted to join the girls in the chorus. Rachel hates the idea of more cheerios invading musical theatre, but has to admit that this show involves a lot of dancing, and a bunch of stumbling football players just won't cut it. For all their attitude and lack of creative energy, the cheerios will be perfect chorus dancers. They have to be, because Katie is never going to be able to do Anita justice during America. That thought helps Rachel.

Not that she should need her self esteem helped at all. Rachel has the lead role. The role that any self respecting actress would kill for. Rachel is going to be Maria, the Juliet of the show, whose tragic loss of love makes the show so horrifyingly beautiful and poignant. She gets to say those words…

_You ALL killed him! And my brother! And Riff! Not with bullets and knives! With HATE! _

_Well, I can kill now too, because now I have hate! How many can I kill Chino? _

_How many - and still have one bullet left for me?_

But it doesn't feel like winning, because she heard what Katie said when she saw the list. Because Katie was glad. Because "I would have hated playing Maria. The character is so flat…" Because Rachel didn't really win. She already knew she was Maria, and nothing changed, except that now Maria is… Flat. Maria is uninteresting. Part of Rachel wanted to scream that Katie was wrong. But part of her believes it's true, and is ashamed.

Either way. NYADA will be impressed. And that is what Rachel tells herself as she strides away from the little white bulletin posted outside the auditorium.

**-X-**

"I don't know what I did wrong. I thought the solo was perfect… but… I just won't ever get the chance, will I? I'm too much of a girl. No one will ever cast me as a tony. I'm such a friggin horrible actor that I'll never be able to play a character that's not a flaming homosexual!" Kurt really wants to cry, and scream, but mostly he just wants to have gotten the part. It's the first time today that Kurt has said anything about his role in the musical. He congratulated Blaine quickly in the twenty seconds they saw each other before period two, but that was it. He can't truly hate Blaine… because Blaine is perfect for the role. Kurt sighs and looks down at his lump of clay as it spins on the wheel, around and around and around.

"Have you ever noticed that you're not the only one who got screwed over? I heard Mercedes' audition yesterday, and it was better than Rachel's. Really. And she's just a background character. Because Maria isn't black. Maria is a stick thin, unbelievably, magically beautiful little Puerto Rican girl who falls traumatically and magically in love with the strong, manly, yet sensitive Tony.

This show is about how differences, and racism, and lines drawn to create hate. If they gave it a rainbow mixed up, accepting all people no matter what, cast, it wouldn't get the point across as clearly. They can't cast it blindly. It's just not an option for them, or it would be a risky one. And you got the perfect role for you.

You're going to be a knockout, and sing one of the most beautiful solos in the show, while gorgeous girls and guys dance around you under the most breathtaking lighting design ever. There will be roles for you later, and people will take risks for you to put a twist on great romantic roles, and you have a fabulous voice… but drama is picky, if you have a single flaw, they don't take you."

Kurt smiles only very slightly, and only for her sake. "This coming from the girl who got the second female lead."

Katie shakes her head. "This coming from the girl who spent years in middle school shows being pushed to the part of the cast that stood in the back and sung, because no matter how good her singing was, better, even, than some of the leads, she didn't look the part, or her dancing wasn't good enough, or they really, really needed her high soprano helping out that chorus group."

Kurt does laugh this time. "I guess it's a good thing that there weren't dance auditions for the show…" and Katie nods, smiling, and wiping the sweat off her forehead, leaving behind a streak of grey clay.

"I'm sure I'm going to be forced into some kind of hideous training schedule. The dances she does are incredible. Maybe I'll even lose weight if I'm dancing enough. I never get out and exercise." Katie muses and pokes at her belly. She leaves a grey fingerprint on the pale blue and white stripes button down that she's currently using as a smock, though it's covering an equally messy homemade silkscreened shirt, and a pair of old navy blue jeans that's rolled up to mid calf.

"Don't even say that. You are not fat!" Kurt exclaims, and the moment he says it, he knows this conversation is going to end up in one of those uncomfortable places where everyone's telling each other they're not fat, everyone's thinking they are, and no one really is.

"Well, I think I look beautiful, thank you very much, but the doctor says I weigh too much, and it would be nice for them to actually have my size jeans out at stores when I go shopping. You always have to ask for them to go in back to get the size thirteens, it's annoying."

"I disagree with your doctor. 150 is a perfectly good weight for someone your height. If you got any skinnier it'd be unhealthy." Kurt looks at the clock and says "It's five minutes till the bell," so the two of them get up and go to the sink to wash their hands.

Katie finishes first, because she doesn't care about getting all the gunk out from under her fingernails, and as she walks away, she says, not quietly, but not drawing attention to the comment, "Try adding another thirty pounds onto that figure. I weigh 180." She doesn't sound ashamed or disappointed, but just says it simply, as if it's the truth. Because it is.

When Kurt returns from the sink, the conversation is over, even though Kurt is surreptitiously examining Katie's butt and thighs and trying to figure out how that many pounds fits into it. He shrugs. She's beautiful either way. The two of them chat about the new Alexander McQueen collection. He has attempted to convert Katie to be interested in high fashion, even if she still insists on wearing her fabulously put together outfits that have come out of bargain bins and thrift shops. She points out one dress that reminds her of a project runway design from several seasons ago, and the two launch into a discussion of their favorite designers. When the bell rings they leave together, incessant chatter being the most comfortable setting between them.

After a few seconds of walking in the hall Katie slows and stops by a locker that Kurt knows isn't hers. Kurt is about to ask why, until he hears the unmistakable sound coming from across the hallway.

"I said, Give. Me. Your. Lunch. Money. Faggot."

One of McKinley's hockey players has a slender, bespectacled boy pressed up against a locker, with unmistakable terror in his eyes. Before Kurt even has a chance to think of what to do, Katie marches up to the pair.

"I'd let him go if I were you."

The hulking jock turns to look down at Katie, who doesn't even so much as flinch.

"You going to make me?"

"You'd have to stick around to find out." There's a pause. "Don't fucking call him a faggot. That's just a dickhead thing to say. So stop being a bigot and a bully and let him go."

The jock does let the kid go, and he scrambles off, abandoning a calculus textbook in his hurry to escape.

"You don't run this place, dyke, and you better get that through your skull before you start trying to play god. No one's going to take it. You need muscle to back up your words here." He stalks away, and Katie leans down to pick up the history textbook the kid left.

"How did you do that?"

Katie turns around at Kurt's question. "What do you mean?"

"Stand up to him like that?" Kurt clarifies.

"He was being an absolute fucktard. Stuff like that shouldn't happen in school, or anywhere. I've never seen anyone be that much of a dick," She replies. "at least not out in the open."

Kurt looks confused now, "You haven't. Didn't people get bullied at your school?"

Katie looks a bit confused, and a bit thoughtful. "I guess they did. But it was never that blatant, the slamming into lockers and stealing your lunch money. Physical violence wasn't so big. If bullying did happen… it was the kind where all the popular girls turn on one friend and alienate her… not this kind…"

"Gay guys didn't get picked on?" Kurt asked, curiously.

"I come from a place where almost everyone is a super liberal democrat… so the answer would be no, at least much less so than here. I'd like to say that I've never had anyone give me a problem for my sexuality… but I don't think I fit in the right demographic to be picked on, because I'm a bisexual girl… that's a lot more socially acceptable."

Kurt does a double take. "You like girls?"

"Is your gaydar malfunctioning?"

Kurt laughs. "If I had any gaydar whatsoever, my junior year would have been a hell of a lot less complicated than it was. Maybe the whole Karofsky issue…" Kurt trails off, and Katie looks confused. "That's a story for another day… Come on, we both need to get to class."


End file.
